


Soulmates are knot always reciprocal

by BadwrongFox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Badwrong, Bonding, Come Eating, Dark, Dark Derek Hale, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, High School, Jeep Sex, Knotting, M/M, One-Sided Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, One-sided Mate Bond, Soulmates, Stalking, Straight Stiles Stilinski, Unhealthy Relationships, Unstable Derek Hale, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 07:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadwrongFox/pseuds/BadwrongFox
Summary: Derek knows his mate is straight and has questionable ethics.





	Soulmates are knot always reciprocal

Derek slips behind the beige, generic tiled wall at Beacon Hills High and flattens against it when he realizes that Stiles is not taking his usual route to Chemistry class. Stiles’ voice bounces off the walls and Derek can clearly hear him lamenting about Dr. Harris’ obvious continued mourning of corporal punishment going out of style.

 

As Stiles walks by with Scott, Derek can’t help but lift his nose in the air and scent him. Even with the myriad of (horrific) smells in the high school, Derek easily picks up his mate’s natural body odor. He smells sharp and tangy and mouth-watering, like rosemary and lemonade.

 

Derek has been following Stiles a lot more frequently since Lydia expressed interest to get to know him—as friends and study partners. Stiles got over his creepy and childish fixation on Lydia long ago, but it has taken until sophomore year for her to really forgive him.

 

Derek focuses his hearing more until he can hear Stiles entering the cafeteria with Scott. He smiles a small, private smile knowing that Stiles will be busy for the next 45

minutes and heads out to the parking lot to do what he came for.

 

He finds the Jeep in its usual spot—off in the far back corner of the lot. It is surrounded by trees with a fence on two sides and Scott’s new car on its other side. It looks like the shittiest parking spot in the lot, but he knows that Stiles picked it so when they cut class, no one notices that they are leaving.

 

Derek tries the driver’s side door and it’s locked. Instead of popping a claw and breaking in—he doesn’t want to leave any evidence of his visit—he slips around to the passengers side and is rewarded with the door popping open easily. He climbs into the passenger’s seat and closes the door behind him. As soon as the door closes, Derek’s world gets smaller. Instead of focusing on all of the people in the school, listening to nearby traffic and smelling hot pavement there is a quietness and a stillness in the air along with smells that Derek all associates with Stiles. The scent of all the things in the Jeep linger on Stiles’ skin. A lacrosse bag steeped in old sweat, empty fast food bags balled up in the back seat footwells, a half-finished Adderall prescription bottle and a pine air freshener. Derek wrinkles his nose before tearing the air ‘freshener’ down and shoving it in one of the old fast food bags. He quickly grabs the rest of the trash from the back of the car before getting out of the Jeep with a huff. He strides over to a nearby trash can and throws everything that smells offensive away.When he climbs back in the vehicle and closes the door again, his wolf settles at smelling less trash and more mate.

 

A contented rumble rolls out of his throat and he puts the seat back down, spreading his thighs and putting his feet up on the dash. His cock twitches with interest as he settles into the seat and forces his hand down past the snug waistband of his jeans to lazily hold it. He palms himself with no real intent, breathing in deeply and closing his eyes.Whenever he is sitting or laying down and alone, he always has a hand in his pants, rhythmically squeezing his shaft. Its so soothing and natural to him that he has caught himself doing it under the covers at Pack Movie Nights (tm) occasionally. It started out being an accident out of habit, freezing and pulling his hand out as soon as he realized what he was doing. Nobody had noticed so he got bolder. He has found his hand wandering down more frequently, burrowing covertly under the covers andinto his pants on the couch right next to his mate and his alpha.

 

Derek thumbs at the slit and pinches the tip of his dick sharply,just how he likes it. He jacks himself slowly until his hand starts cramping from the restriction of his jeans. As his dick starts slowly gaining more interest, he lifts up his hips to pull his hand out from the tight waistband and uses the lever on the side of the seat to recline the seat back so he can lay back a little. He unzips the gym bag at the back of the Jeep, hoping to find some shorts or a jersey full of Stiles’ sweat, but he only finds a pair of grass-stained lacrosse cleats. Derek pulls one out of the bag, knowing that beggars can’t be choosers but not thrilled with what he was able to find. Cleats are their own type of sweaty and generally smell more strongly of feet than of the particular wearer. Regardless, Derek places the shoe on his chest and runs his hand down his belly to his jeans. It is quick work to open them and to draw his long, hefty cock out of the opening in his boxer-briefs. His dick is red with extra blood but still in the floppy side of hard.He spits on his hand three times to have something remotely slippery to work with and takes himself in hand again. The shoe doesn’t smell good or enough like Stiles on the outside, so he shoves the opening shoe against his face, putting his nose in as far as it can go and inhaling deeply. Instead of a deeply personal whiff of Stiles, Derek finds this to be a bad choice and an overwhelmingly unpleasant experience. He pushes the cleat away from his face and it rolls down on top of his lap. His semi has flagged a little from his desperate attempt at scenting, and he has to spend few moments forcibly pushing air out of his nostrils to clear them out.

 

The shoe is the only thing in the car that has been really permeated withStiles’scent (somewhere under that smell of feet), so Derek isn’t quite ready to give up on it. He squeezes the head of his cock back into active interest and jumps up into his hand a few times, before getting another idea. Derek growls at himself because he knows it’s dumb and not going to work, but it feels almost like a compulsion and he can’t not try it. He brings the cleat down further into his crouch and before he can talk himself out of it he shoves his dick in the lacrosse cleat.

 

It doesn’t feel like much. Stiles’ foot is bigger than Derek’s penis and the shoe feels hollow and humid around him. He brings his other hand down on the outside of the shoe, crushing it slowly so it hugs his dick more closely. The leather of the inside of the shoe bends at odd, sharp angles and he has to be very careful not to scrape his dick with them. He cautiously thrusts into the shoe, getting harder by the minute despite how poorly his masturbation session is going.The inside of the cleat is too rough to offer any kind of real pleasure and the only thing keeping him going is the thought of Stiles running and sweating wearing them. After fucking into the cleat repeatedly and becoming more and more frustrated, he pulls out and throws the shoe into the back seat. He lays there looking at the roof of the car, his dickhead tacky with precum and wholly unsatisfied with all of his life choices.

 

If he really focuses he can hear Stiles’talking to Scott, arranging to meet up with him when class gets out in about 10 minutes and drive to the movie store before heading to Pack Movie Night. Derek groans at the idea of not being able to get off before he has to get out of the vehicle and out of sight—luckily Scott has not put any work into really stretching his hearing and has the senses of a domesticated tortoise. Scott is terrible at distinguishing what distinct smells mean. Stiles has asked Derek to help Scott become more in-tune with his ‘werewolfiness’ (as Stiles calls it) and although he feels bad, Derek has been deliberately sabotaging those lessons. He can’t have Scott telling Stiles that Derek is following around and that his lacrosse cleat smells like it has had a dick in it. Derek has made sure to give vague, unhelpful, and even downright incorrect advice to stunt his Alpha’s knowledge. He only hopes that it doesn’t get him in trouble some day when those skills would have come in useful to keep Scott out of danger. But Derek has never really cared about Scott—well, not since he realized that he was straight and not dating Stiles. Although the elation caused by that revelation was short-lived, as he found out that Stiles was straight-as-an-arrow in the next breath.

 

Derek doesn’t want to get bogged down by thinking about the reality of his situation, though. What he wants is to get off—fast—since he needs to be out of the Jeep in 8 minutes. He looks around the interior of the Jeep for anything else to try jacking off with, but there is nothing. He huffs and spits on his hand some more, fondling his cock with more purpose now that he has a timeline. His eyes slip over the driver’s seat and his dick immediately blurts out a thick gob of precum when he realizes what he can do. He leverages his seatback up into its previous position, then leans over the driver’s side and faceplants into the seat cushion—right where Stiles’ crotch is when he drives. Derek wolfs out a little when he inhales, Stiles’ musk has completely permeated the cushion and Derek can distinguish the unwashed, close, and delicious smell of Stiles’ genitals. His clawed hand roughly strips his dick as he growls continuously louder in arousal and need. He shoves his face further into the seat until he can barely breathe, teasing out the deepest smells. It doesn’t take him long to burst, dick spitting come across the brittle black plastic of the passenger’s dashboard. The need to bite and claim makes saliva fill his mouth. He grips the base of his dick with both hands as it expands, trying not to give it any place to go. Although Derek tries to hold back, he can’t help but knot, now that he knows exactly what his mate’s dick smells like and can imagine how salty it would taste. His knot finally reaches its full size and he squeezes it rhythmically, simulating a bitch locking him and milking him for come. He shoots out rope after rope of thick, white cum, only getting a small amount of it on the Jeep’s seat. He sits there, chest heaving, clutching his dick tightly to him and shaking. Whenever he thinks about Stiles and knots his hand or a toy, the swelling at the base of his shaft usually lasts for an obscenely long time—about 45 minutes (the normal duration of a tie is 5-15 minutes). Being in Stiles’ space and soaking in his scent, Derek can’t begin to guess how long he will stay hard and swollen for. The bell inside the school rings and Derek snaps out of his post-orgasmic haze and out of his half-shift. All of the high-schoolers clamor to get their belongings and get out and Derek realizes he has to get out of the parking lot, now.

 

He uncurls his hands from his cock, trying to ignore the pleasant and insistent throbbing of his knot. He only has a little come on his knuckles and he swipes it off with his tongue. He looks around the Jeep for something to wipe off the dashboard with but he threw out all of the napkins away with the fast food containers.He would use the corner of his jacket, but it is leather, and he would use his shirt but he is worried he won’t have time to change before the pack shows up—the ones with actual supernatural senses. He hears the heavy metal doors of the front of the school open and panics. He leans forward and starts licking his come off of the dash while shoving his dick back in his pants and zipping them up. Come is splashed in stripes on the dash and he runs his tongue over every bit of it, wrinkling his nose while forcing himself to lap it up. As a former alpha werewolf, his body instinctively believes that he should have a bitch cleaning up (or holding in) his mess and it is difficult for him to swallow his pride—and his come. He finally chokes the last bit down and hops out of the car, keeping a low profile. Right before he closes the door he sees the small amount of come on the seat and leans back in, rubbing at it with his thumb. It creates a small, off-color smudge and he would lean in and suck it out, but he hears Scott and Stiles enter the parking lot. He reasons that the stain could really be anything and it isn’t that noticeable before shutting the door and disappearing into the trees. If anyone saw him, they would have wondered why he was walking so funny and bow-legged. Any born male werewolf would recognize the distinctive walk of trying not to put any unnecessary pressure on a painfully inflated knot.

 

————————

 

When Scott and Stiles show up at Derek’s house 30 minutes later with a rented DVD of Velvet Goldmine and Stiles settled in next to Derek on the couch, nobody but Peter notices how Derek doesn’t move his legs for the first hour and 10 minutes. Derek’s knot lasts for a record hour and 40 minutes and his underwear is slick with irregular trickles of come that his cock just couldn’t keep in.

 

Sitting next to Stiles in public was a delicious torture and even after Derek’s marathon knot deflated, his cock is hard and insistent. The instinct to flip his mate over the couch and breed him is so strong that Derek has to clench his fists to keep from wolfing out.

 

Derek feels a pang of regret for breaking into the boy’s Jeep—now that Pandora’s box is opened it can’t be closed. Now that his wolf intimately knows the scent of Stiles, it won’t be content with watching from the shadows anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta’d. Let me know if there are issues.


End file.
